The New Hire
by Monimi006
Summary: Laid off from his job, wide-eyed Jeremy Fitzgerald finds work at his childhood pizza place, Freddy Fazbear's Diner, as a gameroom worker. As he rises in the ranks (as does his payrate), he begins to realize something is off about the cutesy little pizzeria. Can he find the monster that lurks behind the star-studded curtains?


**(this follows no set canon, expect dates to be wrong and plots to be very unfollowed. Writing this for fun, not to be a lore expert).**

The first few flakes of snow sprinkled down onto the hood of the boxy black police cruiser, tucked behind the roadside billboard. Miles away, the snow capped San Francisco Peaks could be seen, crowning through the fog and mist of the midday. The highway was fairly quiet, with only a handful of 18-wheelers passing through, probably in the heat of crosscountry loads. Off to San Fran, to Dallas, to Phoenix or Oklahoma City. There was next to no wind, with the faint whistle of the air whispering through the crack in the driver's side window.

New Eden, Arizona. About thirty miles north of Flagstaff, snugly placed on Interstate 89 heading to Utah. A town of close to twelve hundred people, the kind of neighborhoods where you could leave your doors unlocked at night and count on your next door neighbor for a jump for your car. Established in 1889 as a trading post, the small little town managed to survive the hardships of the Great Depression and not fall to the wayside. A decent amount of local businesses that managed to stay in business (Walmart always passed up their offers to open up shop) and keep the local economy steadfast. Come to the town square and gaze upon the statue of President Eisenhower, who once dubbed New Eden "a place that's sure to bloom like a dew-dripped rose seedling in the spring", when he passed by one day en route to Phoenix.

Yep, we loved that comment so much we encased the man who said it in bronze.

Slowly drumming the door panel of the slightly beat-up Crown Victoria cruiser, Officer Jared Fontaine was struggling to fight off drowsiness. Fiddling with the heat controls, he leaned over and cranked the knob of the radio, turning up the volume. "_Doctor, doctor, gimme the news. I got a...bad case, of lovin' you…", _he hummed to himself. Reaching for his half-empty box of Shipleys Do-Nuts, he dug inside the box until he unveiled a crisp chocolate donut, smudged by the plastic wrapping of the box. He took a hearty bite, and washed it down with a gulp of cold coffee.

_Come on_, he thought to himself. _Only a few more hours, then punch out time._

Only a few months out of academy training, Jared Fontained II was a fairly average man. FIve foot something, decent build and always heavy eyes, with bags seemingly drawn on with a Sharpie underneath. Born and raised in Flagstaff, his family moved to New Eden when he was eight to care for his ailing grandmother. What was only meant to be a month long stay turned into a few months, then half a year, then they simply returned to Flagstaff to move their entire belongings to Grandmas. When she lost her battle to Alzheimer's a few weeks later, they officially became settled in New Eden.

Growing up in a small town with no major hangout spots (no mall, no arcade joints, not even a developed library), that left an energetic young boy the only option to explore the vast Arizona wilderness around him. He still fondly remembers the time he decided, unknown to his parents, he was gonna camp out in the wilderness overnight, armed with a sleeping bag, a flimsy tent and a bag full of snacks raided from the cabinet, like a Junior Rough Rider.

It was smooth sailing up until he tripped down a steep hill a couple hundred feet from his backyard and twisted his ankle, stumbling down the wayside like a bad Three Stooges skit. It must've been hours, he recalls, before he heard the wail of police sirens in the distance, and the shouts of men. He remembers being picked up like a baby, cradled in the arms of the barrel-chested officer (who he now knows as Chief o'Malley) and carefully taken out of the scary forest and being set into the back of a police cruiser, wrapped up in a blanket with little piggys on them and given a cup of hot cocoa, while the officer went to talk to his parents. He had never felt so safe before in his life in that one little moment, sipping water-based cocoa in the back of a squad car.

It was then and there, in that moment, he knew he wanted to become a peace officer. To protect and serve, to uphold the Constitution, local law and everything in between. To set the example in pride and earnest, and to make kids like him feel that same sense of security when they got into a bind.

Highway patrol was always the most dullest thing to do for an eight hour shift. Then again, so was standing in one spot at the entrance to City Hall, an aging three story building that was in dire need of some new carpet. Or organizing the endless rows of files in the storage level below headquarters. There was always the off-chance he would be able to chase down a ragtag wannabe Speed Racer, trying to show off his new muffler or whatever. But things that exciting, ripped right out a cheesy action movie on Showtime, rarely happened around here.

Faintly, he could hear a bit of airy static buzzing from his radio. Someone was trying to-

"All available units in the area, be advised. Request for police at Freddy Fazbear's Diner, 1304 Josephine Avenue. Major incident reported, possible casualty. Requesting officers Fontaine, Briggs and DeMartini. 1304 Josephine Avenue.

Officer Fontaine frowned. An incident at Freddy's? That was unusual; the biggest thing that happened there in recent memory was a pretty nasty grease fire that shut down the store for a good few days. Fontaine knew Freddy's as among the most popular spots in town that was a chain franchise; high schoolers wanting a place to chill after class, visiting their friends that worked there for extra cash, the go-to spot for children's parties, parent pouring hundreds of dollars into gifts they'd soon forget, and of course a great last minute dinner option with delivery pizza and wings, hot off the oven. When he ended up burning the spaghetti in the pot (a very real thing that could happen to even the most experience of cooks), Janet always ended up calling in an extra large pepperoni with olives and a Jolt cola two liter.

Considering the small town status of New Eden, it's relative lack of activity and it's laid back sense of operation, formality over the radio wasn't strictly enforced. Hell, on very slow days you could hear officers shooting the shit over the radio, and not expect a reprimand. Compared to major population centers like Phoenix or Tucson, the most major event to happen on a day-to-day was a minor fender bender or an electrical fire at a little cafe. The perks of being a blip on the map.

Looks like today wasn't gonna be one of those days.

Flicking a switch on his dashboard, the red-white-blue lights activated, the siren blaring from his mirror-side speakers. Pulling his cruiser into gear, Fontaine slowly pulled off the gravel and headed southbound down the highway, back to town. From here, only a few minutes to the town square, and a stone's throw from Freddy Fazbear's.

…

Squealing into the snow-covered parking lot, Officer Fontaine parked his cruiser near the wide double doors of the diner. Putting on his jet black forage cap, he stepped out of his vehicle and felt the cold wind brush up against his face. An EMS truck and another squad car were already on scene, lights still up. He recognized the owner of the squad car as Officer Wyatt Burns, a friend from the academy. Went to the same high school, although they rarely shared classes. Burns turned at notice of his arrival, and gave a brief wave.

Sitting on the fender of the EMS truck being questioned by Burns was a disheveled woman, mid forties with dirty blonde hair and eyeliner running down in tears on her cheeks. A quilt was draped around her and a cup of something hot was sitting at her feet, untouched. She kept running her hands through her hair and shaking her head 'no' frantically.

Fontaine only frowned, and turned back to the store. Up on the rooftop read the words "FREDDY FAZBEAR'S DINER" emblazoned in an energetic font pattern. The store's logo, a cartoon brown bear with a bowtie and tophat, was perched atop the lettering, arms wide with a funny grin.

Officer Fontaine pushed open the double doors.

The store itself was vast, close to twenty thousand square feet of space in the sole building it occupied. Gigantic posters advertising two-for-one pizza deals and talking about the latest flavor of wings were plastered against the floor-to-ceiling windows. Towards the back of the store was the show stage, ordinarily with the "Fab Four" up on stage; the bear, the rabbit, the duck and sometimes the pirate fox. Just off stage was the myriad of arcade cabinets like Pong, PacMan and Asteroids, constantly chiming and blinking and setting off triumphant 8-bit victory noises and spitting out endless rows of tickets.

But now the games were shut off, and the showstage had it's purple curtains draped closed. The rows and rows of dining tables in front of the stage were abandoned, still lined with pans of pizza and cups of soda. Behind the kitchen counters, Fontaine could see the cooks and workers awkwardly standing around and chatting amongst themselves, unsure of what exactly to do. The wide prize counter was abandoned, a hefty pile of tickets still sitting on the glass display, drooping onto the ground. At notice of the police, parents started to quickly pack up their belongings and push their kids out the door, telling them to be quiet as they started to complain about leaving early.

"But we just got here, mooom!" Fontaine heard a little girl whine, dragging her purple bunny plushie behind her.

"_Callate la __**boca**__! Volveremos mañana!"_, the mother angrily snapped back, pulling the girl on her arm. She quickly shoved the door open and left, girl in step.

A man timidly approached him, and stuck his hand out.

"Hi. Eddward Demarcus, I'm the manager on shift." Officer Fontaine looked him up and down. He was an African American male, probably mid thirties. Nerdy looking, with a short moustache and round-framed glasses, curly hair tucked underneath a black workhat emblazoned with a cartoon bear. He was wearing a blue button-up shirt with a black apron tied around him, smeared with pizza sauce and dough.

"What happened, exactly?"

Demarcus made a motion to slowly walk with him, further into the games area. "I-I-I'm not terribly sure, right now. What my staff told me is that one of the party rooms were pressing the assistance button a whole bunch of times and heard screams from down the hall. When we came to go look they said one of the animatronics, um...snapped. And it lunged at one of the kids."

Fontaine quickly pulled out a small notepad from his breast pocket and started scribbling down the info.

"We really don't know how this happened, Officer. We-we have our technical supervisors test the animatronics every week, across all the regional stores. We follow the safety guidelines given from the manufacturers to a tee, we have safety drills and rehearse our employees on what to do in an emerge-"

"Where's your security advisor? Are there cameras in the party rooms?" Fontaine cut in.

Demarcus stumbled on his words. "O-our head of security is at a store in Phoenix right now, and we only have one or two persons on shift for the first part of the week. Err, you can grill her as much as you need to, Officer. About the cameras...we, uh…" he trailed off. Fontaine didn't really need a follow-up to know the answer.

Demarcus led the officer past the show stage, where Fontaine could see a little peek at the animatronics behind the curtain. Sure enough, they were still there. Freddy, Chicken and Bonny. The fox guy wasn't there. The three robots were frozen in place, their heads lowered, as if they were being reprimanded for pissing on the carpet or something.

"Towards the back of the store we have the party rooms, where parents can rent out a certain robot they want for their own private room. The big attractions are usually Freddy and his main crew. Rarely do we get a party that wants this one as their...friend."

Through the big glass windows of the storefront, Fontaine could see more squad cars pull up to the parking lot, joined by a second white EMS truck. Fontaine squinted; he could see a few more officers walk in through the front doors, one of them with a yellow caution tape roll in hand. Undoubtedly they'd have to shut down the store for the day, depending on the scale of the impending investigation here.

"Er, we've been meaning to get rid of this one for a while, the new model just came out last week from the manufacturer, actually. The staff here just calls this one...the Mangle."

Officer Fontaine tared down the hallway, a long corridor cheerfully decorated with various party crafts. Paper plate creations of ducks and birds and bears, with smiling grins and googly eyes. It was deathly quiet; not even the air conditioning was on. At the far end of the corridor, Fontaine could see what appeared to be an open-ended room, with the words "SECURITY OFFICE" in a black-white banner at the top. Fontaine made a mental note to check that out later. First priority would be to review the security tapes.

Demarcus idled by one of the doors, with a little glass window in the middle, with mini-drapes hiding the view inside. It reminded him of a prison cell with confetti sprinkled on it.

"I must warn you, sir...it's not pretty."

Demarcus slowly slid the door open.

"My _**God**_."

Blood stained the walls, already turning a deep crimson maroon from exposure to the air (this must've happened close to a half hour ago, why was there such a long wait?). Tables and chairs were knocked over and shoved aside (a mad dash to get out of the room?). Cake and food bits were smashed and stomped into the ceramic tile floor. A tower of presents, colorfully wrapped with Super Mario and The Legend of Zelda wrapping paper, had seemingly been knocked over.

Tucked in the corner of the room, perched atop a balsa wood/black felt podium was an unusual tangle of wires, metal framing and rainbow wiring. From across the room, Fontaine could faintly make out the outline of a metallic endoskeleton, with a shiny silver head that Officer Fontaine could only describe as a robotic version of the weird biting alien head tongue on a Xenomorph. Laying next to the robo-alien head was a large, plastic white fox head, with candy red makeup blush and lipstick. The fox's eyes were closed, with strings of electrical wiring hanging from it's missing ear.

And cradled in the jaws of the animatronic fox, eyes gently fluttered closed, was a body. Clear white skin, rich brown hair, jean overalls and a red-yellow striped shirt underneath (like a coral snake). A trail of blood ran down from the edge of his mouth. Pierced like knives in wood were the teeth of the robot fox, lodged into his skull.

A child.


End file.
